


learning curve

by ficklish



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Genji's not in a good place at first but he gets better, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, mild body dysphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficklish/pseuds/ficklish
Summary: There's a hissing sound each time he takes a breath. It's barely audible – Dr Ziegler's good at her job and each gear, each joint, each pump, functions like a well-oiled machine – yet the sound chafes at his ears, especially when he's alone with nothing but the walls of his room for company.Jesse tries to help, declares himself Genji's honorary roommate and makes a nest in the corner of Genji's room, in a cramped little couch that has long since lost its new leather smell and shine. But that's fine, Genji has enough of that new smell, feel,everything, for the both of them, and it shows in minor stumbles during training from limbs that move too fast, from a body trying to work on muscle memory with muscles that are no longer there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Genji's new Blackwatch skin. 
> 
> Big thank you to [herekittie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/herekittie) for easing my worries. Do check out their work because they're a fantastic writer!

Some days are bad. In fact, most are. Genji finds himself picking at his skin, at the seams between metal and flesh, just to feel something, to remind himself that he's real. That he's alive. Because it's hard to tell sometimes when he looks in the mirror, glowing red eyes staring back at him, twin embers surrounded by scar tissue and he's still undecided on whether he wants the flames to burn out.

There's a hissing sound each time he takes a breath. It's barely audible – Dr Ziegler's good at her job and each gear, each joint, each pump, functions like a well-oiled machine – yet the sound chafes at his ears, especially when he's alone with nothing but the walls of his room for company.

Jesse tries to help, declares himself Genji's honorary roommate and makes a nest in the corner of Genji's room, in a cramped little couch that has long since lost its new leather smell and shine. But that's fine, Genji has enough of that new smell, feel, _everything_ , for the both of them, and it shows in minor stumbles during training from limbs that move too fast, from a body trying to work on muscle memory with muscles that are no longer there. Sometimes he falls, and he holds his breath waiting for that burst of pain, grunting out of habit; he feels the impact against his metal limbs, but it's detached, like a sensation felt through layers of padding, or bubble wrap.

It's why, when Genji asks him to, Jesse aims his punches on Genji's good side, the flesh side, the human side. Training hits, not meant to hurt that badly, but Jesse doesn't treat Genji like a porcelain doll and it's why he's Genji's favourite. Doesn't matter that Jesse doesn't land many hits; Genji's much faster despite his handicap. Or _enhancement_ , as everyone else calls it, and Genji bites his tongue because he owes them, is grateful under all that anger and self-loathing. He's alive after all, and that's all that matters, all that should matter. It's what he tries to convince himself of when bruises form from the handful of hits Jesse does manage to land along the scarred flesh of his left shoulder, chest, back. Mottled blues and purples that yellow and fade as the days pass and that make him feel like he can breathe again, better than whatever machine's keeping his lungs functioning.

Genji thinks maybe he's learning to be touched again, in ways outside the heat of battle or training, outside the violence. He's learning to accept tenderness. Jesse’s hand on his shoulders, both flesh and metal, heavy and warm for the briefest seconds before the weight's gone. Jesse doesn't treat him like he's going to break, but he respects Genji's boundaries and toes the lines Genji's drawn. Somedays, Genji's made of stone, and though the water might wear him down over time, he crosses the river to meet Jesse halfway, exchanging careful touches that belie the frantic need in his chest to just _feel._ And when he tilts his head, lets his lips meet Jesse's, he feels his pulse in his ears like a Kumi-daiko performance, finally _finally_ drowning out the hissing noise that accompanies each breath, feels Jesse's stubble scratch along his chin, feels Jesse's racing heartbeat, the sensation muted under his metal palm, but echoed tenfold in the beating of his own heart. And how could he have ever questioned whether or not he is truly alive, when it feels like there's a hummingbird beating its wings against the inside of his ribs? 

Other days, Genji is made of dust, and the river threatens to wash him away if he attempts to cross. But Jesse's endlessly kind, and he sets up camp in that cramped, worn-out couch, cleaning and oiling his revolver, creaking leather and his tinkering filling the silence Genji detests. He gives Genji the space he needs, but remains a tether to the real world so Genji doesn't get lost in his own head. The couch may have long since lost its new leather smell, but Genji thinks he prefers the smell of cigars that lingers in the cushions in Jesse's absence.

Genji's never been in love before, but he grows to feel an incredible fondness for the cowboy, with his antiquated gestures and the twang of his words, and it comes pretty close to love, Genji thinks.

It’s why it breaks his heart when he decides he has to go.

Blackwatch unravels from the inside out, and Genji refuses to ask Jesse to choose between him and Commander Reyes, the only father figure the older boy’s ever known. So he leaves a bit of himself behind with Jesse, and takes a part of Jesse with him when he leaves, pieces like breadcrumbs in that one fairytale for them to find their way back to each other someday.

And find each other, they do. In another life, where Genji’s at peace with himself and smiles rise to the surface of his lips with ease, where Jesse’s down a flesh arm but light dances in his eyes when he states proudly that he thinks his new metal arm makes him look “way cooler anyway”. A gold belt buckle reading ‘BAMF’ winks at Genji from where it rests upon Jesse’s hips.

Some things have changed for the better, and Genji sleeps much better than he used to, whirring gears and all. But some things, like Jesse’s terrible sense of fashion and the incredible fondness that wells up like a spring in Genji’s chest at the sight of him, have not. Genji’s certain that this too is for the best.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
